第189章

第189章“heknows,ofcourse,whatthislossmeanstome.surelyhecan’twantmetoberuined？why,hewasmyfriend.ilovedhim.…but,indeed,it’snothisfault;what’shetodo,ifhehasalltheluck？andit’snotmyfault,”hekeptsayingtohimself.“ihavedonenothingwrong.ihaven’tmurderedorhurtanyone,orwishedanyoneharm,havei？whatisthisawfulcalamityfor？andwhendiditbegin？suchalittlewhileagoicametothistablewiththeideaofwinningahundredroubles,andbuyingmammathatlittlecasketforhername-day,andgoinghome.iwassohappy,sofree,solight-hearted.andididn’tevenknowthenhowhappyiwas.whendidallthatend,andwhendidthisnewawfulstateofthingsbegin？whatwastheoutwardtokenofthatchange？istillwentonsittinginthesameplaceatthistable,andinthesamewaypickingoutcardsandputtingthemforward,andwatchingthosedeft,broad-bonedhands.whendiditcometopass,andwhathascometopass？iamstrongandwell,andstillthesame,andstillinthesameplace.no;itcannotbe.itwillallbesuretoendinnothing.”

hewasallredandinasweatthoughtheroomwasnothot.andhisfacewaspainfulandpiteoustosee,particularlyfromitshelplesseffortstoseemcalm.

thescorereachedthefatefulnumberofforty-threethousandroubles.rostovalreadyhadthecardreadywhichhemeanttostakefordoubleorquitsonthethreethousand,thathadjustbeenputdowntohisscore,whendolohovslappedthepackofcardsdownonthetable,pusheditaway,andtakingthechalkbeganrapidlyinhisclear,stronghand,writingdownthetotalofrostov’slosses,breakingthechalkashedidso.

“supper,supper-time.andherearethegypsies.”andsomeswarthymenandwomendidinfactcomeinfromthecoldoutside,sayingsomethingwiththeirgypsyaccent.nikolaygraspedthatitwasallover;buthesaidinanindifferentvoice：

“what,won’tyougoon？andihavesuchanicelittlecardallready.”asthoughwhatchieflyinterestedhimwasthegameitself.

“it’sallover,i’mdonefor,”hethought.“nowabulletthroughthehead’stheonlythingleftforme,”andatthesametimehewassayinginacheerfulvoice：

“come,justonemorecard.”

“verygood,”answereddolohov,finishinghisaddition.“verygood.twenty-oneroubles…done,”hesaid,pointingtothefigure21,overandabovetheroundsumofforty-threethousand,andtakingapack,hemadereadytodeal,rostovsubmissivelyturneddownthecorner,andinsteadofthe8000hehadmeanttowrite,noteddown21.

“it’sallthesametome,”hesaid;“onlyit’sinterestingtometoknowwhetheryouwillwinonthattenorletmehaveit.”

dolohovbeganseriouslydealing.oh,howrostovhatedatthatmomentthosereddishhands,withtheirshortfingersandthehairsvisibleundertheshirtsleeves,thosehandsthatheldhimintheirclutches.…thetenwasnotbeaten.“forty-threethousandtoyourscore,count,”saiddolohov,andhegotupfromthetablestretching.“onedoesgettiredsittingsolong,”hesaid.

“yes,i’mtiredtoo,”saidrostov.

dolohovcuthimshort,asthoughtowarnhimitwasnotforhimtotakealighttone.

“whenamitoreceivethemoney,count？”

rostovflushinghotlydrewdolohovawayintotheotherroom.

“ican’tpayitallatonce,youmusttakeani.o.u.,”saidhe

“listen,rostov,”saiddolohov,smilingbrightly,andlookingstraightintonikolay’seyes,“youknowthesaying：‘luckyinlove,unluckyatcards.’yourcousinisinlovewithyou.iknowit.”

“oh！thisisawfultofeeloneselfinthisman’spowerlikethis,”thoughtrostov.heknewtheshockthenewsofthislosswouldbetohisfatherandmother;heknewwhathappinessitwouldbetobefreeofitall,andfeltthatdolohovknewthathecouldsethimfreefromthisshameandgrief,andwantednowtoplaycatandmousewithhim.

“yourcousin…”dolohovwouldhavesaid,butnikolaycuthimshort.

“mycousinhasnothingtodowiththematter,andthereisnoneedtomentionher！”hecried,withfury.

“then,whenamitoreceiveit？”askeddolohov.

“to-morrow,”saidrostov,andwentoutoftheroom.